


Don't Complicate it by Hesitating

by ot5cuddles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Tuck Everlasting AU, tuck everlasting - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:56:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ot5cuddles/pseuds/ot5cuddles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once again Harry felt a very distinct yet frustratingly inexplicable pull in his chest.</p><p>"Harry," Louis breathed. "I'm going to be nineteen until the end of the world."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay so uh. this is a tuck everlasting au. it's going to be very different from the plot of the book/movie for the most part, but the general stuff applies. thank you for giving this a read :-)

Harry was lost.

His lungs burned and so did his knees. Sweat trickled down his temple to collect above his lip. His tongue poked out to taste the salt of his efforts. Efforts that now left him horribly, terribly lost.

He stood doubled over with his palms digging into his thighs, begging for rest. His heart hammered irregularly in his ribcage causing the blood to pump hot and heavy through his body. Harry’s muscles were screaming for the oxygen it provided, and they continued burning with the exertion of remaining upright.

It was a hot summer, the summer before the winter that Harry would turn sixteen. He’d been dreading the end of summer for months, long before the season had even started, because with September came the promise of a stuffy old boarding school where Harry would be trapped for the rest of his high school life. Not that he’d had much of a life to speak of, being home-schooled since he was a toddler, taught by grumpy tutors with short tempers and even shorter tolerance for Harry’s inquisitive nature. He couldn’t help if it he wanted more for himself than piano lessons and ugly, scratchy wool sweaters. 

So, here he was. Harry looked around once he’d gotten his breathing back to a semi-normal pattern. All around him was nothing but green. The trees stretched on for miles and miles as far as his eyes could search. He found it ironic that his family _owned_ this wood and yet none of them had ever set foot in it. Which was exactly what had spurred Harry on to go exploring. Or rather, jogging.

Or running. Away.

Not that he was very well prepared to run away: with him was nothing but the clothes on his back and his own free will. His stomach rumbled grumpily and Harry clutched his abdomen, cursing himself for skipping breakfast that day. He hadn’t thought this through very well. One moment he’d been sitting by the front gate of his family’s estate, staring at the green serenity in front of him that was the forest, and next thing he knew his feet were pounding the dirt, taking him far away from the polished floors and endless lessons and pretentious scoldings that his home held.

Perhaps he could climb a tree to gauge just how far he’d gotten. Or maybe he could give up and simply follow in the same direction from which he’d come. But that meant going back home, which was something Harry had little to no interest in doing, at least not right then. He needed some time. If it got dark out and he still wasn’t home, then so be it. Harry imagined his parents yelling their throats sore looking for him, scouring the grounds of their property to no avail. _Let them worry,_ he thought. He was used to skimming under their radar at home. _Let them pay attention to me for once._

Harry brushed his sweat-matted hair from his forehead and swept a few strands behind his ears. It was getting long, his hair, but he quite enjoyed the way it curled at the ends when it got to this length. The second he got home and his parents were finished yelling at him for being so reckless, no doubt they’d be on him to get his hair cut. 

Somewhere above, a bird chirped cheerily. The sound carried on the breeze like wind chimes, calming Harry for a moment before he became painfully aware of the soreness of his throat and the dryness of his tongue. He swallowed and cringed, realizing with a start that he was probably miles away from anybody, which simultaneously terrified and exhilarated him.

A snapping twig caught his attention then and he whipped his head towards the direction of the intrusion. “Who’s there?” he shouted impulsively, his breath catching for a moment before a startled baby deer scurried out from behind a bush, as far away from Harry as its small, wobbly legs could carry it. Harry let out his air and shook his hair out, grinning despite his situation. He was alone and lost in the middle of nowhere, but he’d never felt more free.

He continued walking for a few minutes, just letting the soft sunlight that was filtering through the tree tops fall across his skin and warm him from the inside out. The whole place was almost surreal; the air tinted green and speckled with tiny, floating motes that sparkled in the slanting afternoon light. Harry’s lungs filled themselves up with the sweet-tasting atmosphere and his smile never faltered. Not until he saw another person, a boy, a few yards away.

His back was to Harry, kneeling in front of a giant tree with gnarled roots that shot out in every direction from the trunk. The world seemed to stop as Harry’s ears picked up the sound of water trickling softly somewhere nearby before his eyes zeroed in to a tiny spring pooled at the bottom of the huge tree, nestled at the base of the ancient trunk. Harry approached carefully, quietly, watching as the boy took drink after drink from his cupped hands. 

Harry tiptoed his way to the left side of the tree in order to catch a glimpse of the stranger’s face. Before he got very far, the boy stood, his hands cupped full of cool water. He turned, splashing the water over his face and caramel brown hair, running his fingers through it and breathing out a sigh of relief. Harry admired the boy’s profile for a moment before he was frozen by the shock of bright eyes staring straight at him. The boy (or rather young man, Harry decided) seemed just as glued to his spot as Harry, both of them gauging the situation and unsure of what to do next. 

“Who - wh-what are you doing here?” the boy sputtered out from between his damp pink lips. “You need to go home right now.” His eyes furrowed delicately and Harry was almost entranced by the intricate facial expression before he cleared his throat, feeling a wave of bravery wash over him. Harry crossed the small distance that remained between himself and the stranger, gutting his chin out.

“My name is Harry Styles, and it just so happens that I own these woods.” He stood his ground, displaying all the dignity he’d been taught that came with his name. The stranger seemed to be holding back a smirk as soon as the words had left Harry’s proud mouth. He bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to show vulnerability.

“Well then, _Harry Styles_ ,” the stranger said, a hint of patronization in his voice. “You’d best be turning around and heading back home.” Harry didn’t budge, even when the boy before him made to move forward into his personal space. “Can’t you hear me? Get out of here.”

“I won’t,” Harry stated simply.

“And why is that?”

Harry’s stony expression faded slightly. “I can’t. Because I - I’m lost.” He could practically feel the tension bubbling up in the stranger’s chest from the laughter he was suppressing. 

“Didn’t you just say that you owned this forest?” he let out, finally, but in that same patronizing tone that made Harry clench his fists. The stranger stepped back and shook his hair out. Water droplets flew out, one hitting Harry on the cheek. He didn’t wipe it.

Instead he stepped closer, insistent. “I do own it. Well, my father does. I just ... started running. And I don’t know where I am now,” he explained, a light blush creeping over his face. He must sound so childish, so silly, so reckless to this boy ( _man_ , Harry reminds himself again) standing in front of him, narrow-eyed and flushed from the heat.

Harry has decided that the young man must be a few years older than himself. His body looks strong. He wears blue jeans, but the muscles of his thighs and calves show through the thick material. They look compact and coiled, as if ready to spring at any moment. Beneath the white t-shirt his golden skin shines through, tiny tufts of chest hair peeking out from the low neckline. Harry’s eyes flicker up to the stranger’s face, taking in the hint of dark stubble dusted along his jaw and above his lip. He feels a pull in his gut when their gazes lock together suddenly, green on blue, the earth meeting the sky. Harry jerks his eyes away and steps back some, boundaries suddenly feeling very important. 

“So, you’re lost, then?”

The sound comes soft, along with the breeze and the of crunching leaves underfoot, getting closer by the moment. “Y-yeah,” Harry confirms, too embarrassed to look up all of a sudden. “What’s your name?”

The footsteps stop abruptly at his question and Harry lifts his head just long enough to see that the stranger is frozen to his spot, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open. It opens and closes again and again, as if he’s not a real person, but a ventriloquist's dummy. “Uh,” he moves a bit closer and holds a hand out in front of Harry’s chest. “Louis. My name’s Louis.”

Slowly, very cautiously, Harry accepts the gesture. “Louis what? I told you my full name,” he prompts, raising one eyebrow. But Louis drops Harry’s hand abruptly and coughs, looking down at both of their feet. 

“Um, it’s going to be dark in a couple hours, Harry.” He ignores the question, making Harry’s chest feel tight. “I know these woods like the back of my hand. I can help you get back home.”

Something in Louis’ voice, the softness, the airiness of it, makes Harry feel like he can trust the other boy. “O-okay. Fine,” he makes a show of agreeing, as if he’s had to mull it over before giving in but in all truth, he’s tired and sweaty and thirsty and he thinks he’s made his parents worry long enough. 

Louis smiles sweetly, looking at Harry before his eyes flicker towards the big tree in the center of the forest, the spring still bubbling happily away at the base of it. “Let’s go, then.”

“Wait,” Harry calls when Louis begins walking. He makes a beeline to the giant, gnarled tree, his eyes locked onto the sprinkling water. Lovely, cool water. His throat is still so dry. “I want a drink first.”

“No!” A hand grabs Harry’s arm, jerking him, stopping him from getting any farther away. Louis’ nails bite into Harry’s flesh like a warning. “No, I mean - You can’t drink that.”

“What?” Harry shakes himself free of the offending grasp, crossing his arms in defiance. “Why not?”

“Because,” Louis states, his voice wavering, sounding flat. “Because it’s poisoned.” In his eyes are a look of panic, though his face remains stoically calm. 

“But I saw you drinking from it.” 

“Yeah, uh...yeah. I’m not feeling too good all of a sudden,” Louis tries, his face twisting into a sick grimace. He clutches onto his own chest and chokes on nothing. "Let's go. Now." Louis' body turns away, motioning for Harry to follow. 

He doesn't.

The air goes quiet, Harry making his way silently to the tree, cupping his hands, just about to make contact with the cool water - “No, Harry, don’t!” Louis yells, breaking out of his charade and reaching out to grab Harry once more. 

“Louis?” A man’s voice calls suddenly, out of the blue. Louis freezes as he holds tightly onto a struggling Harry, whose heart rate has picked up considerably, beating against his ribcage like a drum beat. He looks on as another young man steps out from the thicker foliage on the outskirts of the small, tree-surrounded clearing. “Louis, what are you doing?”

“Zayn,” Louis calls out, his throat sounding tight. Harry fights against the strength of Louis’ arms, desperate to get away. He’s got a bad feeling about this, doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t belong here. Should never have tried to run. Should’ve stayed in his sheltered, clean, overbearing home. 

The second stranger jogs up. His face is serious, stoney, less than impressed. “Louis, what the fuck is this?”

Louis fights to keep a good grip on Harry’s lithe body. “Listen, Zayn, I was just trying -”

“I can’t even believe you let this happen,” Zayn’s voice is level and calm, but it’s that kind of calm that comes before a storm.

“He didn’t...I swear! Just go! I’ll take him home.”

Zayn comes up beside them swiftly, grabbing onto one of Harry’s arms that he’d gotten free. “You know the rules, Louis.”

Harry whines pitifully, fully aware of how pathetic he sounds, his whole body tensed and filled with trembling fear. “Please, let me go!” Louis frowns and gazes downward, only gripping tighter. Now Harry’s got two strangers holding onto him, and they’re dragging him away from the tree, back into the denseness of the woods, walking so fast Harry can hardly keep up.

His knees are weak, his chest is tight and he can feel tears scrambling up from inside his eyelids to spill down his cheeks in spite of himself. “No! No! Let me go! Please!”

“Louis, would you shut him up?” Zayn growls. 

Reluctantly, Louis places a firm hand over top of Harry’s trembling mouth, his cries and sobs becoming muffled. “I’m sorry,” Louis mutters too quietly for anyone to really hear, but Harry can feel it in the way Louis eyes shift over his face sadly. 

Giving up the struggle, Harry accepts his fate as he lets himself be dragged along through the forest. He’s being taken, kidnapped, and these strangers are probably going to kill him. His family will worry, and cry for him, and look for him, but he’ll never be found. His heart lurches and he sobs harder, biting his teeth into the rough skin of Louis’ palm in frustration. If Louis feels it, he doesn’t let it show. He looks almost regretful, keeps side-eyeing his accomplice angrily, but still does nothing to help free Harry. Zayn and Louis don’t speak, don’t try to communicate over the noise of Harry’s muffled crying, and the air around them is uncomfortably tense.

The sun has begun to set; the orange and yellow hues filter through the trees as they get sparser and there’s a river just visible, winding along beside the edge of the woods like a huge, slithering grey snake. So many different noises come into play: chirping of birds, rustling of small animals, and the trickling of the river. It almost makes Harry feel safe, peaceful even, until he remembers why he’s here and who exactly is holding onto him so tightly. He lets himself cry again, a bit harder, the feeling of it nagging at his chest. 

To the left of them a small log cabin comes into view and the grips on Harry’s arms let up just slightly (more so on Louis’ part). The hand over his mouth is gone and he cries out once more before biting his lip. “Come on,” Louis grunts reluctantly as Harry stumbles on a pile of rocks under foot. Zayn lets go completely and jogs farther ahead, disappearing into the cabin without shutting the door behind him. Within moments, he returns outside, standing on the porch. Following behind comes another man, who looks a bit older than the first two, but seems just as hard and tense. There’s a kindness in his eyes, Harry notices with a start as he and Louis approach the porch. The man beside Zayn smiles slightly at Harry before turning his gaze to Louis with a questioning frown. 

“This is Harry,” Louis speaks up, stopping in front of the cabin. 

Zayn shakes his head incredulously and disappears back inside the cabin with a muttered curse. The new, kinder-looking man gives a soft, friendly smile at a trembling Harry, who refuses to acknowledge the gesture. “Louis? Why don’t you bring Harry inside,” he suggests, nodding his head at the door. With heavy feet, Louis and Harry shuffle up towards the stairs to the porch. 

“I’m Liam,” the man says softly as Harry sniffles up at him. “I think we’ll be able to explain much better once we’ve all been fed.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't know who these strangers are or why he's with them, all he knows is that something about Louis makes him feel safe.

Inside the cabin it was cozy, dark and warm. It seemed like something out of a history book. The old quilt folded over the back of the sofa and the crudely carved wooden furniture reminded Harry of pictures he’d once seen of a cottage his family had bought near the ocean. He’d never been to it.

It was small yet open, everything included in one room: a kitchen in one corner; the sofa, a few chairs and a large bookcase in the other. A fireplace lay cold and dormant at the far wall, a pile of logs sitting beside it, waiting for winter to come. Hanging on walls and sitting on tables were pictures of people, all kinds of people. Harry tried not to nose around, he really felt more than uncomfortable as it was, but he couldn’t help but notice the pictures of Louis that were interspersed around the room. He was always making some sort of silly face in them, or smiling wide, or pouting, hamming it up for the camera. A few of the photos showing Liam and Zayn, Harry noticed, looked to be quite old, black and white and grainy, yellowing at the edges and creased in several different spots. There were also photographs of people that Harry had never seen before, guessing them to be the families of these strange boys.

Louis guided Harry to the dining table in the middle of the cabin and pulled out a chair for him. Liam was at the stove with another person that Harry had just noticed, a third boy who had sandy-coloured hair and a toothy grin. Liam nudged the boy in the side to get his attention before gesturing towards the table at Harry and Louis, who were now sat beside each other tensely at the table.

The grin faded from the boy’s face when his gaze landed upon Harry’s tear-stained face. Liam whispered a few things to him and he nodded before picking up a stack of plates from the counter and walking over to the table, setting them down. His grin was back as he began placing them at each place setting, saving Harry for last, for a total of five places. “Hi, I’m Niall,” the smiling boy said cheerfully as he nudged Harry’s plate a bit closer to him. Harry didn’t look up from where he was playing with his fingers in his lap.

“Zayn, would you please come out for dinner?” Liam called out towards the back of the cabin. A door flew open moments later to reveal a stony-faced Zayn, who slowly sauntered over to the table and sat down as far away from Harry and Louis as possible.

“Um, so you’ve met Liam and Niall now. That’s Zayn. Sorry for his...attitude,” Louis breathed out, leaning over so his lips were nearly brushing Harry’s ear. 

Harry’s eyes filled up with tears, tears of confusion and anxiety. “What am I doing here? What are you going to...to do to me?” His voice broke on the last part of his sentence and he looked up to meet Louis’ eyes, hoping to convey his desperation in the glance. Despite what had happened, there was still a tiny sliver of Harry that trusted the boy and wanted Louis to protect him.

“I - we’ll explain everything soon,” Louis promised, testing his boundaries by gently stroking his fingers across Harry’s bone-white, folded knuckles.

Liam brought a platter of some sort of steaming food over to the table, to which Louis and Niall both made animalistic moans and groans of hunger. Once everyone had sat down, they began filling their plates. Harry, however, stayed stock still and petrified in his seat, biting his lip so hard he soon tasted the tang of iron on his tongue. 

Soon, the only sounds being made were the scraping of forks against ceramic plates and chewing of food. Harry could feel everyone’s eyes on him all through the meal, the awkwardness of the situation making his cheeks burn and his stomach turn with confusion. 

Liam bends down to say to Harry as he collects the dirty plates after the meal while the rest of the boys wash up at the sink. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re not hungry, then?” Harry shakes his head without looking up. 

“Alright, everyone sit back down. Zayn, that means you, too.”

The group stops its chattering as soon as Liam’s voice cuts through it, and it becomes clearer to Harry that he must be the leader of this pack, the authoritative figure who calls the shots. Once everybody’s sitting quietly at the table once more, Liam speaks again. “Okay. Who wants to start?”

“You do it, Li,” Niall pipes up, pointing. “You make the most sense at explaining it.”

“No, let Louis,” comes Zayn’s slightly sarcastic quip. He crosses his arms and perks an eyebrow. “He’s the one who got us into this mess in the first place. ”

“Please,” Liam says with a simple pleading look and apparently it’s enough to shut Zayn up completely. “Alright, fine. Lou, would you please start us off, then?” Three sets of eyes are then trained on Harry and Louis, and Harry shuffles in his seat, feeling like a bug under a microscope. 

Louis lets out a large breath of air, blowing his soft hair up out of his eyes. “Okay, well. Harry, here’s the thing,” he turns and looks directly at him, as if he didn’t already feel looked-at enough to begin with.

“Basically, you have to stay here. With us. For a while, until we’re certain it’s safe for you to...to go back.”

“What do you mean ‘until it’s safe’?” Harry asks impulsively, countless unanswered questions burning holes through his skull. “My father will pay you anything you want if you let me go.”

Liam sighs. “No, Harry, no, it isn’t like that.”

“Then what exactly is this? Who are you?” 

An unnerving silence lays like a thick blanket over the room and it makes Harry’s throat close up. Louis bites on his lip as he trails his eyes over Harry’s furrowed brow and tear-tracked cheeks. “There’s a reason we’re all here, together,” he starts, his voice wavering nervously. “We just have to make sure we can trust you before we let you go. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

Then Harry feels it: the strange warmth in the pit of his gut that is telling him that Louis is truthful, that he’s trustworthy and good and won’t let anything bad happen to him. As if he’s reading Harry’s mind, Louis leans in and whispers, “Do you trust me?” 

But Harry can only stare, unblinking, because he isn’t sure of anything anymore.

The night comes far faster than Harry has time to notice, and soon the moon rules the sky. The other young men of the house have all gone, disappeared into the cabin’s bowels, behind shut doors with lights flicked off. It’s slightly eerie being completely in the middle of nowhere, and when a wolf howls somewhere in the distance and Harry shivers, Louis is there beside him, placing a quit and a change of clothes in his arms with a friendly smile. 

“You’re going to have to wear my stuff. Is that alright?” he asks, and Harry nods. It’s not like he has a choice.

“We’ve put together a bed...thing for you. On the sofa. It’s alright, yeah?”

Again, Harry nods because what choice does he have? Louis nods as well, and turns to leave while Harry lays his new things on the sofa cushions. He pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it beside his quilt before pulling on the sweater Louis had provided him with. It’s a bit too big and the sleeves fall over his hands but he pushes them up, heaving out a sigh. He’s got no idea how he’s going to live here. He doesn’t even know how long it’ll be. Surely his family will find him, surely there are already search parties scouring the land for him. 

Louis is suddenly back at Harry’s side, and he lingers there a moment before speaking. “L-look, I know none of this makes sense to you now, but I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. I promise. Just try not to worry, okay?” Harry’s gut churns and he shrugs non-committally in spite of it. 

Another wolf cries out in the dark night and Harry jumps, wrapping his arms around himself and clutching, curling in on himself, away from everything else. “You’ll understand soon enough, alright? Please try to get some sleep,” is all Harry hears before the shrinking sound of footsteps signal that Louis has left him alone in the cold, dark room with nothing but his racing thoughts to keep him company. 

_____

Despite the sickness in the pit of his stomach, Harry finds that he had actually fallen asleep that night when he opens his eyes to the scorching daylight. Part of him hoped, as he listened to whispered speaking and the creaking of kitchen cupboards, that he was back at home and the events of the previous day were nothing but a fairy tale made up in his mind.

But then came Louis and Liam with a mug of steaming tea and cautious smiles all around. Liam set the tea on the table beside Harry before he and Louis exchanged a glance, seeming to communicate without the use of spoken language. With another careful, soft, almost paternal look in Harry’s direction, Liam turned to join where Niall was folding what looked like bed sheets at the kitchen table.

Harry shuffled and sat upright on the sofa as Louis picked up the mug and handed it to him. “Good morning,” he offered in a sleep-affected voice that made Harry feel much more welcome than he would have liked to. He thought twice about drinking the beverage, but that was before he remembered that he would rather die quickly of poisoning or something of the like than starve himself of food and water out of sheer stubbornness. He sniffed at the drink before sipping at it, feeling the hot liquid burn on his lips and tongue. 

“Is it okay? I made it the way I like it, I wasn’t sure,” said Louis. Harry glanced up at the boy who seemed to be looking anywhere but at him. “We have some stuff to talk about today. I’m going to take you fishing.”

Harry still didn’t get why he was here and why he couldn’t go home. Didn’t these weird people know that even if they had no intentions of harming him, the moment Harry was returned where he belonged, his parents would be sending police after them? Didn’t they get how much they were risking by holding Harry hostage?

“What do you want with me?” It was the only question Harry could muster, the only thing that was swirling around in his mind. Louis still hadn’t given him a straight answer, neither had any of the other men in the cabin. The entire situation wore on Harry’s brain like the ocean against a tiny pebble. Every time he tried to think too hard about, tried to figure out why they had taken him, a little bit more of his mind was washed away into confusion.

Still, Louis didn’t answer, only shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

_______

The river was just as sleek and graceful close up as it looked from a distance. Louis had taken him farther down stream from the cabin and the woods, carrying two fishing poles and a couple of buckets that Harry didn’t know the contents of. He’d never been fishing before. His father had promised to take him several times throughout his childhood, but then a very important business meeting would come up and leave Harry to his own devices once again.

Home was a main thought inside Harry’s mind as he trudged through the coarse sand beside Louis, who was whistling a happy tune. If Harry shut his eyes he would be able to pretend that he was with his father, that this was an experience he’d been starved of during his childhood. It didn’t work.

Stopping at a spot on the river bank, Louis dropped the supplies and looked out over the calm water. “Gonna catch some dinner.”

Harry nodded. The ground below their feet looked worn and broken in, so he decided that Louis must come here a lot to fish. He sat, pulling up some sparse grass with his nervous hands.

Louis got everything ready in a blur, and Harry watched, trying to follow the deft movements of the boy’s small fingers. “Wanna try with me?” Louis was beside him then, handing out one of the fishing poles. Harry eyed it, unsure. He shook his head.

A few minutes passed peacefully, with Louis standing by the bank on a small rock, fishing line in the water and eyes trailing out over the water’s edge. “How old are you, Harry?” The question came out of nowhere, but it was simple and the answer came out of Harry almost automatically. 

“Fifteen,” he side-glanced the boy beside him, who seemed to be concentrating completely on his line in the serene water, waiting for a bite. Harry turned back to stare at his knees. “How old are you?”

A beat of silence followed, far too long of a hesitation for such a straight-forward question. He sighed before reeling in his empty line, the hook trailing in the water before he placed the entire pole down on the sand beside him. “Do you really want to know?” With a nod, Harry shuffled a bit closer to where Louis was preparing to sit beside him.

They just looked at each other for a while, Harry wondering what was so complicated about it, why such a simple question had to be treated like such a big deal. It wasn’t until Louis finally spoke that Harry got the inkling that the other boy was completely and totally lying to him. “Well, Harry, I’m one hundred and four.”

Harry searched his face for any hints of jest. He found none.

“Come on, tell me the truth,” Harry prodded at Louis’ leg with his finger, suddenly feeling some of his natural boldness coming back.

“That is the truth.”

“No, it isn’t. Why can’t you just tell me how old you are?” 

“I just did.”

Giving up, Harry sighed loudly in annoyance and buried his face in his knees. “You still haven’t told me why I’m here,” he prompted quietly, not wanting to be kept in the dark or lied to anymore. 

“Well, you see, all of this kind of goes hand in hand,” Louis explained, scooting closer, placing a careful hand over Harry’s shoulder, coaxing his face out of hiding. He looked up and met the other boy’s eyes, questioning, begging for an answer.  
“The reason why you’re here...” Louis started before he decided to re-collect his thoughts and try wording them again. “M-me and the boys, we’re - “

Before Louis had a chance to finish through his stuttering, Niall was running up towards them, sweaty and dishevelled. He came to to a halt right when they were sitting, almost tripping and falling into the rushing river to his left. “We gotta go, now.” His eyes were wild and Louis stood, grabbing Harry’s hands to help him off the ground as well. 

“The police are looking for Harry,” Niall coughed, breathing hard. “Liam heard on the radio. There’s search parties combing the entire forest.”

Harry felt a tight kind of hope in his core, a glimmer of the possibility that he could be rescued and brought back to his family. He wanted to be brave, to scream and fight and demand to stay put because he knew that sooner or later the search parties would come upon the river and find him, bring him back to safety. 

But was he really unsafe here, with these strangers? That was what confused Harry endlessly. Part of him wanted to run back home and never think of them again, but another, dare he say larger part of himself was frustratingly curious about these strange people that had whisked him away to a cabin on the other end of the forest. They treated him well enough so far, didn’t seem to want to hurt him, didn’t want a ransom...so why keep him here? Despite how torn he felt inside, he was being pulled along once again by Louis, back towards the cabin, fishing poles abandoned on the river bank. 

As soon as Louis, Niall and Harry stepped inside the cabin, Harry noticed the place was in total disarray. Things were thrown about everywhere and there were several over-stuffed duffle bags sitting by the door. Louis stepped through the mess like it was an obstacle course, his face screwed up in anxious worry. “Where’s Liam?”

“Went out back to start up the car,” Niall answered. Harry piped up at that.

“You have a car?” He never really considered the idea, seeing as these people lived out in the middle of nowhere in a wood cabin and seemed to walk everywhere they went. They didn’t even have a television. 

Louis nodded. “Yeah, we only use it to go into town for supplies. And for emergencies.”

“Emergencies?”

“Yes,” Louis confirmed. “As in right now. We’ve got to rush.” 

Harry’s stomach was twisting, starting to finally feel like he was in a true hostage situation. “Rush where?” He asked, afraid of the answer to that inquiry. Zayn bustled past them then, with a bundle of food in his arms. “Where are we going?”

Nobody even pays attention to Harry’s sudden manic state, too caught up in their own mania. The world is spinning around his face, blurring past in patches of colours and sounds he doesn’t understand, can’t break down and categorize in his brain. Everything’s moving, or maybe it’s Harry that’s moving, non-stop, like a carnival ride. 

He doesn’t process how exactly he ends up outside again but he’s being led up to a truck with the hatch of the bed open. “Up,” comes a calming voice in his ear and Harry complies, lifting his feet to climb up into the back.

Harry crawls into the bed of the truck and immediately nestles himself into a bundle of blankets and pillows in the corner by the passenger side of the back windshield. He could feel himself crying again, the sobs quaking in his chest like thunder. He wasn’t sure exactly why he was so upset all of a sudden, but the dam inside of him that he’d been building up for the past twenty-four hours had broken and all his stress was spilling out uncontrollably.

With shut eyes, Harry didn’t see when a body pressed up against him, could only feel it. “We have another place farther away from here where we’ll all be safer,” Louis whispered into Harry’s hair as his arms encircled the boy’s shaking form. “Please don’t cry.”

It only made Harry cry harder.

Harry falls asleep somewhere between his anxiety and Louis’ strong, comforting hold. He wakes up alone, with a stuffy nose and a sticky face, pressed into damp blankets, after the truck abruptly stops at the side of the road just before sunset. It’s nearly dark but Harry’s ears pick up a very quick, choppy yet quiet argument by the right side of the truck. He makes out Zayn’s low drawl followed by Louis’ quip, all wrapped up around Liam’s fatherly tone. 

“Why can’t we just let him go home? He doesn’t deserve this,” Louis pleads with a heavy voice. “He’s a good kid. I know he won’t tell.”

“Bullshit, Louis!” There’s Zayn, sounding angry as always. “We all know the second that kid steps out of our sight, we’ll all be thrown in jail.”

Harry hears Liam sigh as Louis sputters uselessly, trying to retort. “That isn’t the point!”

“No it isn’t,” Liam agrees. “You know what the big picture is, Zayn. We can’t be found out.”

“So we’re just going to keep up this wild goose chase with the kid’s family forever?” Zayn raises his voice slightly, spitting out his words. “This can’t go on much longer!”

There’s the scuffling of shoes on the dirt and some grunting, sounding as if a physical fight has broken out. “Be quiet!” Liam hisses. “And stop that, both of you! Do you want to wake him up?”

Harry’s veins feel heavy, as if the iron in his blood has turned solid in an instant. His face burns in worry and he tucks himself back into the blankets, remaining perfectly still as the three boys climb back onto the truck. Soon, the ignition starts up and they’re moving again, gravel crunching under the thick wheels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of more stuff will be explained in the next chapter. Thank you for reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out what Louis and the boys have been keeping from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my booboo emily for helping brainstorm and stuff. i love ya.
> 
> for reference, this story takes place in 2009 when Harry actually would've been fifteen. so all the dates and stuff are based off of that.

Something that Louis has forgotten is what it is like to be around people who are constantly changing.

He had a family. He had younger sisters, sweet little things with food stains on their skirts and names sewn onto their pillows. On the inside of the doorframe in the kitchen of Louis’ old family home were markings, tiny ticks made in pencil to record the girls’ growth, each one getting taller with each sunrise and sunset.

That was eons ago.

Being around people who don’t ever change, who are always the same age, same height, look the exact same way for years and years has taken its toll on Louis. Having Harry with him, Louis has noticed, is almost breathtaking. Simply the concept of growth astounds Louis now, and the prospect of getting to watch as another person changes, proof that the natural cycle of life doing its job has Louis buzzing from the moment he realized Harry had to stay with them.

It’s as exciting as it is scary, the balance of things going wrong and things going right teetering on the fulcrum, entirely in Harry’s hands. He doesn’t even know how important this is. Once he knows the secret, it must remain a secret at all costs. 

As he holds onto Harry in the back of the truck, jostling around on the uneven ground, Louis watches lines form along Harry’s brow and beside his mouth as he sleeps. The boy must be so scared, confused and worried and Louis is completely unsure of how he can get Harry to trust himself and the boys, how this whole thing is going to play out, but for now all they can do it ease Harry into it slowly, carefully.

______

Harry wakes up with a bit of an ache in his neck and in his left arm. He’s miraculously inside, laying on a bed instead of in the truck where he’d fallen asleep, which is where his sudden pains must have come from. He surveys the room before he makes any move to sit up but all he can register is the emptiness of his stomach and the resounding rumble it makes a second later. 

With a heaving sigh Harry pops upright, pulling the covers off and swinging his legs over the side of the bed in one fell swoop. The bed is quite small, the frame of it carved with tiny patterns of the moon and stars. It’s a bit dusty as if no one’s used it or cleaned it in a considerable amount of time. Harry’s feet don’t reach all the way to the floor until he slides himself down, but instead of coming into contact with cold wood flooring, his feet seem to be on top of something large, firm and warm. A person. 

Harry squeaks and shuffles back up onto the bed as if he’s been burned. A second later, a head of messy, fluffy brown hair comes up from the ground. 

“Thanks for stepping on me,” Louis teases with a little, sleepy grin. His eyes aren’t even fully open yet, they remain cracked just the slightest bit and glued with sleep. “I heard your stomach a second ago. Think you might eat today?”

“Why are you on the floor?” Harry ponders, ignoring everything else Louis had said. 

The boy laid out on the ground stands then, yawning and stretching his arms up and out above his head exaggeratedly. His shirt rides up, a bit of smooth skin becoming visible, looking paler than normal in the dim light. “There’s not enough beds for all of us, and no sofa or anything. Wasn’t gonna put you on the floor, Harry.” He moves to the window, pulling the curtains open to let in bright sunlight. 

Harry squints and flops his hair down into his eyes as a way to shield them from the offending sun. “Where are we, exactly?”

“It’s uh, a smaller place. Sort of like our cabin back by the river but...farther from town.”

“Why are you keeping me here?” It must be the hundredth time Harry has asked that question without receiving a full, concise, non-cryptic answer. He doesn’t think this time will generate any luck, either.

Just as he suspected, Louis shuffles nervously around, juggling his weight from foot to foot. Several moments pass during which he avoids looking directly at Harry at all costs and Harry sighs, deciding for a different approach. “Why’d they make you not have a bed, then?” 

“No one made me, Harry. I volunteered.” Louis says quickly, snapping back into reality, or so it seems. It appears that he always has a way of making sure he takes responsibility for everything, Harry has noticed in the short time he’s been with him.

Louis walks to the door of the small bedroom they’re in, placing a hand on the knob and opening it swiftly. “Besides,” he adds softly at the last second as he stands half in the room and half out, “I wanted to stay with you.”

Then Harry is alone, left to wonder what exactly that is supposed to mean.

When the scent of food wafts into the bedroom minutes later, Harry sniffs at it longingly and cautiously steps from the room to find Louis in the kitchen.

This new place they’ve taken Harry to is almost impossibly tinier than the last and having four fully grown men plus one gangly teenage boy inside is cramped to say the least. Harry has noticed the way that Liam and Zayn appear to cling to each other, not just because of the limited space inside the cabin. They’re close; it shows in the way they speak and decide things together. Harry’s still not 100% positive what the relationships between these young men living together are, but he’s ruled out brothers since none of them look alike. Friends, more likely. Very close friends who live together in the middle of nowhere, kidnap boys for no apparent reason and hide him from the police. 

Seems plausible.

As the day progresses, Harry notices how jumpy Liam is, or maybe that’s a thing for him but Harry wouldn’t exactly know that seeing as he’s only known him for a little over two days. The one who is usually so well-mannered and good-tempered is suddenly testy and the other boys tiptoe around him softly, save for Zayn who always brushes off Liam’s worry with an understanding smile.

Harry’s almost positive that Zayn hates him because he constantly saves his cold glares and condescending tones for him. Actually, he spends most of his time _ignoring_ Harry if he’s being perfectly honest, which might be just as bad, if not worse than anything. Harry doesn’t know why someone who helped kidnap him would hate him so much when the others are so kind and almost friendly, but then again, nothing about this arrangement makes sense, so there’s that.

Niall’s quiet and helpful and always has a chore to do, it seems. He’s been oddly unaffected by Harry’s presence as a whole but when needed he will assist with anything Harry-related that is asked of him. Harry likes Niall, likes his soft voice and his wide smiles.

Then there’s Louis. Louis is exceptionally mindful of Harry, looks after him constantly like an older brother would. He makes him a breakfast of french toast which seems like a whole lot of trouble to go to for someone you’re holding hostage, but as he eats he finds he can’t complain. Harry has always wanted a brother, perhaps not in these exact circumstances, but he’ll take what he can get while he’s being held here. 

When the sun is high up in the middle of sky, Louis approaches where Harry is stilling on the carpeted floor, inspecting the thread count. “Do you want to play with me?” 

Harry looks up at him, and cradled in his arm is a mucky, torn-up soccer ball. His face is twisted into a rather cautious expression, like he’s gauging Harry’s reaction carefully, to a tee. Nodding, Harry stands up and follows to the front door behind Louis. Maybe a quick game will keep his mind off of things for a while. 

He’s not prepared for the scene that awaits beyond that door. Outside it’s so bright and green and almost surreal. The cabin is in a secluded area of land completely surrounded by dense trees on every side. The grass is so tall, and the garden by the side of the house is overgrown with weeds and giant, colourful blossoms. The wind sings delicately through the leaves overhead, touching Harry’s ears so subtly he wonders if he can actually hear it or not. He’s never had proper time to appreciate the outdoors like this in his life, having always been cooped-up inside. On the odd occasion he did go out, it was to travel farther into downtown to buy a new pair of shoes or some supplies for his learning. 

Harry had never felt free before, but being here with these people who’d stolen him away from his stuffy old life makes him feel exactly that. Maybe that’s backwards, won’t make sense to anyone else, but that’s how Harry feels, amazingly. 

Louis’ eyes are bright in the sunshine and he kicks the ball to Harry in the yard of the cabin, the grass tickling their knees. Harry’s wearing a pair of Louis’ baggy shorts and a white t-shirt, the one Louis was wearing on the day they first met. He likes wearing these clothes. They’re soft and worn and they tell a story. Harry doesn’t know what that story is per se, but he can feel it permeating through the fabric nonetheless.

They pass the ball back and forth, both itching to start up a conversation but not knowing how to go about it. Harry wants to ask why he’s here again although he knows it’s futile. 

One particularly hard kick of the ball on Louis’ part sends it flying up into the canopy of trees above them. It hits off a branch before falling down and catching in a lower branch, perfectly notched into the forked shape of it. Harry huffs in annoyance, thinking the game is over, but then Louis is chuckling softly and jogging over to the tree.

“How are we going to get it down?” Harry asks, lagging behind. “It’s pretty high up.”

Louis scoffs, angling his face up to survey his challenge. “Well, we could get something to throw up there and knock it down,” he suggests quickly. “But that’s not hardly as fun as this.”

Harry cocks his head. “As what?”

For an answer, Louis rubs his hands together, sticking his tongue out before gripping onto one of lower branches of the tree. He lifts himself up with a small grunt until his feet scrabble onto the rough bark of the trunk, propelling him forward and higher up into the twisted limbs. He climbs higher and higher as Harry watches on, brow creased as he focuses on the lithe movements that Louis makes. 

He gets to the level where the ball has landed but it’s just out of his reach. He sits with one arm wrapped around the centre trunk like a tether, staring at the ball where it sits farther out on the branch, dangling precariously over the open ground below where Harry stands, his shiny eyes observing silently as they do.

Scooting a bit closer to the ball on the high-up limb, Louis stretches his hand out as far as he can. His fingertips just touch the ball but it’s not enough, needs to be closer in order to push it down to the ground. He shuffles himself closer and closer to it, farther and farther across the branch and it wobbles under his weight.

Everything happens so quickly, almost too quickly for Harry to process in his already confused mind. One second Louis nearly has the ball, the next he’s losing his balance and the branch gives way, sending both the ball and Louis to the ground with a loud, resounding _thump_.

Harry’s heart is in his throat and he can’t breathe as he stares at the lump of a boy laying in a heap on the ground, his legs crumpled under him painfully. Then Harry’s running, straight to the cabin, yelling and screaming for Liam or anybody, for help. They’re out in the middle of nowhere so he hopes, _prays_ these people keep a first aid kit on hand because there’s no way to call rescue. He highly doubts that they even have a phone.

At the ruckus everyone in the house emerges, crowding around Harry, asking him to calm down. Why’s he yelling? What’s happened? Where’s Louis?”

“The tree...h-he...climbed so high up and...a-and fell, he’s on the g-ground,” is all Harry manages to get out between his dry sobs. With that, Liam curses, pushing past everyone with Zayn on his heels, he himself looking more angry than concerned. Niall’s eyes are wide and Harry wants to know why no one else is freaking out, why they aren’t panicking when they all file outside and see Louis laying in a heap of twisted limbs on the ground.

But instead of laying on his stomach the way he’d fallen, Louis is now, impossibly, sitting up with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth and muttering something under his breath. 

“What’s going on?” Harry yells as everyone just stares at him with their mouths open, like they want to speak but can’t make a sound. “He should be hurt! I saw him fall! He should be dead!”

“Harry,” comes Liam, side-eyeing Louis who is now standing up with the help of Niall and Zayn. “Harry, I think it’s time you knew.”

“Knew what?” He chokes out, feeling woozy. He falls backwards into the grass, catching himself with his hands. Louis doesn’t even have a scratch or a bruise and he’s walking towards him, legs completely unharmed when thirty seconds ago they were twisted underneath him, seemingly broken.   
Louis kneels down so that he’s eye level with the shaken Harry. “Look at me, Harry.”

Very slowly, Harry calms his breathing and wipes at his eyes, moving his gaze over Louis’ perfectly uninjured, pain-free face. 

“The thing is,” Louis starts, holding the almost unnerving eye contact as Harry shivers. “I-I can’t die.”

______

“It started with Liam.”

Once Harry has calmed down a bit, he’d let Louis carry him back inside, which was a little bit backwards when he looked at it. Louis had just fallen several feet from a tree but walked away unscathed and now he was carrying someone else, comforting another person. Harry did not want to let the words he’d heard from Louis’ mouth affect him, didn’t want to believe they were true, but how could anything else be possible after what had happened, what he’d seen?

Now here they were, sitting on the carpet beside the crackling fireplace, a blanket over either of their shoulders to keep the chill of the impending evening away. Louis looks so nervous and almost pained, as if he doesn’t want to tell Harry what the needs to know, the entire reason for him being kept here against his will. But he knows it was only a matter of time. “Liam was twenty-four when he was travelling through the country around Oak Crest. He’d been visiting some family before he settled in town to find work.”

Harry nodded, unsure of how this had anything to do with Louis’ apparent invincibility.

“That was in 1826. That’s when he stopped in the forest, he found the same place where you first saw me. He stopped to drink from the spring.” And Harry wasn’t expecting that to be relevant at all, that strange area in the woods near his home where he’d first come upon Louis drinking from the small, bubbling spring at the base of that huge tree. Louis searched Harry’s face for any sign that the boy was piecing it together in his head, whether or not he could tell where Louis’ story was going or if he remained confused. With his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Louis assumed the latter and continued on.

“So, as I said, Liam went into town, found a place to stay and helped out at the general store. He didn’t know anything was strange until he was out in the forest by the river one day and accidentally got shot in the chest by a passing hunting party. They left him there to bleed out, not wanting to get turned in for injuring - or possibly killing - a random man. He’d expected to die out there in the woods, but the pain went away after a while, and then the wound closed up and he felt completely normal.

“Liam was confused, to say the least. He didn’t even think of the water in the spring until he was passing through the forest again after getting shot. It was a long shot, but he had to figure it out somehow. So, Liam went back home, got his horse, brought it back out to the spring and gave it some water to drink. After that, it took him some courage but he shot the thing, right in the head. It didn’t even flinch and it certainly didn’t die.”

Perplexed wasn’t the word to use to describe how Harry felt. His blood was boiling and his cheeks blazed as he put everything together. So Liam was immortal too, and he somehow got that way from drinking magical water? 

“That’s why you wouldn’t let me have a drink that day,” Harry whispered, his eyes glistening in the firelight. “You didn’t want - that - to happen to me.”

“It can’t, Harry. You don’t quite understand the importance of this, of _us_ remaining a secret. If people find out, everyone will be scrambling to take a drink from the fountain of youth. It’ll be chaos, the downfall of society. People aren’t meant to live forever.

“That’s why we live alone, so secluded like this. If we lived among people, after a while they’d notice how unchanging we are.” Louis voice was rising with each syllable. “I’ve been nineteen for eighty-five years now, Harry. I’ve been alive for one hundred and four. I wasn’t lying to you that day at the river.” He sounded so sad, so alone in that moment, the weight of it resting on Harry’s chest for the first time since he found out about it. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t think there was anything he could say to make this any better.

"Harry," wide green eyes met calm blue and once again Harry felt a very distinct yet frustratingly inexplicable pull in his chest.  
"Harry," Louis breathed. "I'm going to be nineteen until the end of the world."

It felt like there was an elephant sitting on Harry’s lap, crushing him and not letting him breathe. Louis looked so calm, so sure, so completely unafraid of the truth. Harry was in awe, in shock; how could any of this be possible? How could it be true? This was the stuff of fairy tales, some kind of warped, real-world Peter Pan deal. Harry swallowed thickly as Louis looked on, giving him some time to process the information he was giving. 

“Zayn’s story is a bit different. He knew what he was getting into, I think, or at least that’s how he makes it seem,” Louis continued once Harry’s eyes got a little less wide. “Liam knew Zayn from town, even though he was a little bit younger than himself. He was twenty when they met, a few months after Liam figured out that he couldn’t die.

“Zayn lived with his mother, who wasn’t married. His father was from far, far away and had only been traveling through when he met Zayn’s mother. He left her with one hell of a gift, that’s for sure,” Louis attempted to joke, but the moment just wasn’t light enough for it yet and Harry couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. “They were friends, Liam and Zayn. Got really close. Things started getting serious after a while, but they had to keep it quiet. Folks weren’t quite so tolerant back then as they are now.”

And yeah, that made sense for Harry. The dynamic between Liam and Zayn was more than just a friendly thing, more than two people who were like siblings to each other. 

“In 1829, when Zayn was twenty-two, Liam told him the truth. He told him everything and Zayn...he wanted to be a part of it. But he regretted it after it was done, at least that’s what Liam’s told me. It hurt him a bit but he understood, I think. I mean, I do. Zayn had to watch his mother die, had to hide away and watch as everyone he had ever known or loved died off and disappeared from the planet. It’s been Liam and Zayn together since then. They were all each other had for nearly ninety years. Before I came along.”

Louis became reserved them, averting his gaze and licking his lips nervously. 

“They travelled all around the country, figured they might as well since they had all the time in the world. In 1924 they were in New York City. I was born there. Lived there all my life. Well, all my life up until I met Zayn and Liam.

“I was nineteen then. I went to this little hole in the wall bar, a speakeasy where I would run to when I wanted to escape. I was mad because...because I was sick. The doctors told my mother I wouldn’t make it past my twentieth birthday and I was angry. Angry that my life could end so early while other people lived to be one hundred.” He gave a humorless laugh and rolled his eyes. “Liam and Zayn sat next to me at the bar and I don’t know, just something about them seemed so intriguing. I ended up drunkenly telling them practically my whole life story and I didn’t believe a single word they told me when they offered to bring me down to their hometown and give me the gift of immortality. It was absurd, but I was angry and drunk. So I ran away and went back with them,” he ended, his throat closing up with heavy emotion.

“My mother...I never told her where I was going. I just left,” he whimpered, suddenly overcome with emotions he’d been bottling up for years upon years. “I figured I just needed to get away and let out some steam but that I’d be back within the week. But I never came back.”

Taking a second to breathe, Louis sniffed and closed his eyes. Harry was reeling from all this information, finally understanding the gravity behind what was going on, why he was here. He waited until Louis looked back up again and smiled weakly, going on with his story.

“We took a train down to Oak Crest and they took me to the spring in the forest, but now the whole thing was owned by the Styles family.” Louis gaved a pointed look at Harry, who froze on the spot. “Your family owns half the town, and still do to this day, am I correct?” Harry confirmed this with a tense nod.

“Anyways, I drank the water, not expecting anything to happen. But lo and behold, here I am with you, today, one hundred and four years and going strong, healthy as the horse that Liam shot in the face.”

Louis laughed then, his eyes crinkling slightly, shadows gathering from the flickering light of the fireplace. “We built the cabin together, by the river. Gathered supplies from town and only went back in when absolutely necessary. Kept a general low profile and that’s what we’ve been doing ever since.”

Harry frowned, pulling the blanket tighter around him as he felt an eerie chill in his bones. “That sounds pretty lonely,” he whispered, dipping his chin into his chest. He didn’t know how Louis could do it, how he could live for so long unwaveringly, always the same age, with the knowledge that he’d never, ever perish. The thought of it was both terrifying and empowering to Harry, but still, living out in the middle of nowhere with only two other people for over eighty years had to take its toll somewhere. 

“Wait, what about Niall?” Harry asked, remembering the quiet, doe-eyed boy who also lived with Liam, Zayn and Louis. “How’d he come along?”

A ghost of a smile flickered on Louis’ mouth as he thought fondly of the memory of how Niall came to be part of them. “It was in the 80’s, I believe. 1983. Or ‘82, I’m not quite sure.” It was so strange watching a nineteen-year-old boy reminisce about the past, about years he shouldn’t have even been around to remember. His spirit was older than Harry could wrap his head around though, and young as he looked it was obvious by listening to him speak that he was much wiser on the inside than his appearance let on.

“It was an accidental thing, what happened with Niall. It was almost the same as what happened with you, except no one was around to tell him not to drink from the spring until it was too late. It was Liam who found him, sitting by that tree, lost as ever, with his chin still wet from the water. He ran away, though. Thought Liam was nuts. He came back and found us about four years later when...when his family died. Their house caught on fire.”

Harry nodded, understanding, taking it all in. He felt overwhelmed for Niall, was aware now as to why the boy was so shy and reserved. It must be so lonely to leave your life behind, to lose you family and to know you’ll continue on indefinitely as they cease to live. Harry squinted, thinking of his parent’s faces, thinking of how worried they must be without him at this very moment.

“So, now you know everything. I know it’s a lot to spring on you at once. I’m sorry for falling from the tree, by the way. I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” Louis spoke after a pregnant pause. His essence seemed lighter like a weight had been lifted from him. 

“So, all this has to be kept secret. If anyone ever found out, God only knows what would happen.”

“But why did you take me in the first place? You could’ve just let me go home and I wouldn’t have known any better,” is Harry’s argument, suddenly feeling very homesick and put-off by the entire situation. He remembers how much he’s cried since he’s been here and it makes him want to never cry again.

Louis bows his head, nodding sadly. “I know. But I was worried that you might try to come back and find the spring again. I couldn’t risk it.” His eyes flash something deep, fixing themselves straight at Harry’s. “We’re all in so far over our heads with all of this, you know. It isn’t anyone’s fault. It just kinda happened.”

It was late and Harry was exhausted, physically and mentally from the story he’d just been told. He yawned loudly, pawing at his eyes like a grumpy toddler. “Time for bed, then? I call the floor,” Louis teased as he jumped up from the carpet and waited for Harry to do the same, both boys padding to the one last, empty bedroom down the hall with blankets around their forms, casting long shadows on the walls in the firelight.


End file.
